


A Collection of Newsies Fics

by undefinedelliyit



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 07:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 8,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17935352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undefinedelliyit/pseuds/undefinedelliyit
Summary: For once in his life, Race does something smart. Also Albert is a little sh*t at the beginning (but what else is new?)





	1. When He Won

“Racetrack Higgins! Would you get away from that freaking TV for five minutes? You’re going to burn your eyes out!” Albert yelled from the doorway. He leaned against the frame, staring at the small silhouette that was sitting in front of a large box TV.  Race absentmindedly shooed him away with his hand, mumbling something along the lines of, 

“Just one more race, Al” Albert sighed, exhausted with how hard it was to even get Race to turn away from the darn TV. He’d been attached ever since they got it the week prior, playing racing game after racing game. None of the newsies minded that he was hogging the TV like that, they were just worried about his health.  _ Tomorrow is Monday, _ Albert reminded himself as he reluctantly turned away from Race and walked back to his room. Tomorrow they’d have to get back to work, therefore Race had to get some fresh air and sunshine. He trudged into the room and sat on his bunk, it made a horrible squeak, causing some of the boys to hush him.

In the adjacent room, Race sat with eyes practically glued to the electric glow of the TV. When was the last time he blinked? He couldn’t remember. His unlit cigar hung precariously from his lip, threatening to fall. Race wasn’t paying attention to his trusty cigar though, he was so close to winning this race. His grip tightened on the controls as if the harder the grip, the faster the car would move on screen. Race knew that it wouldn’t make the car move any faster, at this point it was just habit. 

His heart leapt out of his chest as suddenly the screen lit up even more, pixelated confetti erupted from somewhere off screen. A message flashed in bright colors “YOU WON”. A small “1st place” cup was at the bottom of the screen. The cigar dropped from his mouth and Race shot upward. His cap tumbling off his head as he stumbled slightly. Race pumped his fists in the air. He did it.  _ He won! _ It was the first race he had  _ ever _ won, and he was completely over the moon about it. 

Satisfied with his victory, Race clicked off the TV and tiptoed into the bedroom. He drifted off to sleep quite easily, and one thought circled through his head that night as sleep tugged him further away from consciousness:  _ He finally won something _ .


	2. His Cigar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once in his life, Race does something smart. Also Albert is a little sh*t at the beginning (but what else is new?)

“Ain’t you supposed to light that thing?” Albert inquiried, he ripped the cigar straight from Race’s mouth, and examined it. As he expected, it was never lit once. This, of course, was intentional. Race never lit his cigars, and there was a valid reason behind it. Race was very observant, when he started selling, he didn’t even know what a cigar was. 

He was a scrawny looking kid, his unruly dirty blonde hair always stuck out the end of his cap. His bright crystal-like eyes always glistening with joy. A smile always spread across his lips. If you had just seen his face, you’d consider buying from him, you’d think that he was a nice young man that could use the extra cash for something good. But then you’d see his battered clothes, torn, covered in dirt, with various other stains, and his shoes, the soles wearing thin, and ripped by the toes. 

Despite how bright his smile was, how nice he was, he never sold anything on his own. That’s how he turned to flirting,  _ that’s how he got his cigar. _ Race noticed that the very rich business men  _ always _ had cigars. It was a social statement. If you had a cigar, it was simple, you were higher up on the social hierarchy. Race  _ knew _ that he just  _ had _ to steal a cigar. It would help him sell, it’d work like a charm. And it did. One day, Race stole a cigar,  _ his cigar _ . No one noticed. The rest is history. He could never risk stealing another though, so he never lit it.  _ If you never light it, then it never burns, if it never burns, it lasts forever. _

“Yeah sure yous supposed to light it, if yous an idiot!” Race exclaimed, he reached across to Albert and took the cigar right back. With a cheeky grin, he put it back in his mouth.  _ He’d never light this cigar _ .


	3. Running and Racing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race runs away from home because his parents are assholes

“Mom… Dad? I’m home,” Anthony heard talking from the living room, laughter and the clinking of tea cups on those small plates. His parents  _ were home _ . They were just ignoring him _ , again _ . Anthony sighed in annoyance, he stomped up the stairs, taking two at a time. As he hit the last step, he shook the house. From downstairs he could hear his parents give hushed apologizes to the guests there.  _ So now they paid attention to him? _ Anthony had it, he was done, completely done. 

He had to leave this house, it’s not like there would be a difference without him there anyways. With his heart set on the plan, Anthony went into his room, locking the door behind him.  _ Like that mattered anyways _ . But just in case. Anthony got down on his knees and looked under his bed, the old tattered suitcase was still there. Right where he left it. Anthony had been planning this for a while now, but now, he knew it was time to act on it. He pulled it out from under his bed, and lifted it up. He didn’t know what to pack, so he just kept shoving clothes and other things that seemed like essentials into his bag.  _ This was so planned out before but now that he was actually doing it, it was a huge mess _ . Anthony closed the case and it locked with a promising click. He threw open his bedroom window, and just like that, he was gone.

Anthony was running for what seemed like forever, and with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he could of run for a lot longer. That is, until he knocked right into some poor guy. Anthony was sent falling back to the ground, breaking his fall with his hands. His suitcase busted open, sending his belongings to sprawl everywhere on the sidewalk and street. Anthony stared at his stuff with wide eyes, before jumping into profusely apologizing to the guy he run into. Who seemed to be unphased. The boy laughed and smiled at him.

“Where’s you in a rush to, Racer?” The boy eyed the scattered luggage, so did Anthony, and before Anthony could begin to pick it up, the boy grabbed his arm.

“Don’t bother with it Race, I’ll take you back to the Lodging House, the boys and I will take care of ya there,” The boy said.

“My name’s not Race,” Anthony protested.

“It is now,” The boy said. He turned to Anthony and spit in his hand, sticking it out to him.

“The name’s Jack Kelly,” He spit in his own hand and took Jack’s.

“Race Higgins,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also hi quick note, a lot of my first fics are very short (under 1000 characters) because I only ever intended on sharing them in discord, so sorry! (Also I just really like writing short fics sometimes, b/c sometimes the less words the more impactful right??)


	4. The Mac and Cheese Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race tries to find closure in his boyfriend's death by making their used-to-be favorite meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know, one day I was challenged to writing a fic about mac and cheese and making it as sad as possible... this is what happened... whoops  
> (Modern!AU)

For as long as he could remember, mac and cheese was always Racetrack Higgins favorite food. Up until a year ago,  _ to the day _ , Race had eaten it almost everyday. With his boyfriend Spot of course. But after what happened, just the simple thought of it threw him into a horrible panic attack. Race though, felt it only necessary, and obligatory, that he ate it again tonight. Davey offered to make it for him, Race respectfully declined. Race needed to make this himself. Race needed to gain closure in a sense. This,  _ to an extent, _ was his closure. 

Race set the table for two, a single red rose in a thin vase was set in the middle of the table. One of those cliche, plaid red and white table cloths laid over the table. Two porcelain white plates set on either side. Glasses of champagne set at each plate. Race stood back, and admired his work for a second, he kept in track of his breathing. He was calm, and doing a good job of keeping the panic attack at bay. Then he heard a faint ringing coming from the kitchen, his timer had went off. The water was boiling, that meant it was time to add the pasta. 

Race stood there, humming to himself, a faint smile on his lips. He bounced on the balls of his feet to an imaginary beat in his mind. For a moment, he was back in that day, before it all happened. Him and Spot, twirling around the kitchen, in aprons, that had no use since all they were making was boxed mac and cheese. Then he was brought back to reality,  _ as it hit him like a crashing wave _ . The box fell out of his hand, dropping to the floor, elbow pasta scattered around the kitchen. Race’s breath quickened and he reached to grip one of the chairs for balance. Just as quick as he was yanked back into reality, his brain pulled him deeper into the memories from that fateful day. 

_ Race had turned his back for a second to check on the pasta, still laughing from the dance battle that he and Spot just held in the middle of the kitchen. He heard a window slide open but paid no mind. When he turned back, a dark figure stood looming in the kitchen, behind Spot. The rest happened so quick. The tall figure approaching Spot, the glint of the knife, the heart wrenching grunt that Spot had let out before he began to fall to the floor, the screaming, the tears, an open window, and the figure was gone. Race stood there, still, like a statue. He stared at the open window, and slowly panned down to Spot. He was on the floor, gripping his side, heaving for air. Blood seeped through Spot’s clothes, through his apron, and began to quickly pool around him, seeping into the floorboards. Race let out a blood curdling scream and dropped to Spot’s side. Begging him to stay, but before he could even get out all of his prayers, begging, and I love you’s, Spot let out one last, almost strained, breath. Like that he was gone _ .

Race opened his eyes, he was on the floor, gasping and gagging for air, pasta surrounded him. His lungs hurt, his throat hurt, he must of blacked out.  _ He must have been screaming _ . Tears stained his face, his eyes red and puffy. Face twisted with complete distraught. Davey kneeled in front of him, fighting off tears of his own. Race looked to his side, Albert was leaning against him, hugging him tightly. His brown eyes flooded with concern as he looked into Race. 

“Hey, Race, you’re okay, it’s okay, it’s all over,” Jack whispered and put his hand on Race’s knee, reassuring his safety. _It wasn't okay, it was far from okay, Spot was gone…_ dead _… and it was his fault_. Davey ripped him away from Albert’s hold and pulled Race into a tight hug.  
“It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault,” Davey repeated, Race slowly closed his eyes and nodded. Race couldn’t bear to ever face mac and cheese again. 


	5. The Bulls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie gets caught up with the bulls, Albert and Jack try to help him but they're seconds late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written in 3 different POVS (Crutchie, Albert, and Jack)

Crutchie's POV

Crutchie had a routine, wake up, get ready, deal with the Delanceys, buy papes, sell papes, eat at Jacobi’s (that one changed from time to time) and then sleep. It rarely varied, and Crutchie liked it that way. It was safe that way. With his right leg almost completely useless, it was best that he had a routine, something he could rely on to keep him safe.

Today though, was one of the days in which his schedule changed. Jack had managed to piss of the Delanceys more than usual. It started a fight, the bulls came. Newsies all around Crutchie shouted and yelled, Crutchie did his best to try and leave, he wouldn’t be able to help at all with his bum leg. Cries of pain echoed through the street. Crutchie swiftly turned in time to see a bull slap Albert right across the face, he sunk down like a ton of bricks. Enraged, Crutchie began to go over to the bull, ready to soak him with his crutch. Albert had begun to stir but the bull was now kicking the life out of him. Crutchie was  _ so close _ . He heard loud crack from Albert just as he began to raise his crutch. A strong arm grabbed a hold of his, it spun him around and suddenly Crutchie was face to face with a young man he had never seen before. 

“Run boy, your life depends on it,” That sentence sent a chill down Crutchie’s spine, but another sentence struck a deeper concern in him when he suddenly heard.

“Get the crip!” A bull shouted from behind. Crutchie’s heart sank to his shoes, he began to hobble away as quickly as he could. But the bulls were much faster. 

They had him surrounded in seconds. 

In only a few more Crutchie was on the ground. 

In a couple more, Crutchie was crying for help. 

Two seconds later he was gasping for air. 

5 seconds later, all went dark for Crutchie.

10 seconds later, Crutchie was left lying lifeless in the street.

-

Albert's POV

All Albert remembered was the stinging pain in his face, and crumpling to the floor. He wasn't out for long though, he woke to the world spinning, and a sharp, consistent, pain hitting him in the chest. Weakly, Albert managed to look up, he saw a bull, pulling his foot back, and swinging it forward hard. Kicking him square in the chest. Albert couldn't fight back, he was too weak, everything hurt and he was sure he had broken ribs. Suddenly the bull stopped and turned, allowing Albert to get on his hands and knees and cough. Air entered his lungs, but he could only breathe in so much before a sharp pain, that felt like a hundred knives, sent him down to the floor again. He had definitely broken a rib, and maybe even damaged a lung. His thoughts of self assessment were interrupted by yelling.

"Get the crip!" A bull shouted, as Albert looked up to see what they were talking about, he saw five bulls begin to chase down Crutchie. A young man in a suit tried to stop them, holding them back for merely a second, before being mercilessly thrown to the ground. The bulls surrounded Crutchie and began to soak him. With any strength that Albert had left he stood, and began to make his way frantically to Crutchie.

_ "Jack! Race! Help" _ Crutchie's pleads struck Albert in the heart, he was so close, just 10 more feet and he'd be able to stop the bulls. The other newsies began to run to Crutchie's aid. There was a sudden, heart wrenching, wheezing. Coming from Crutchie. He gasped and gagged for air. The bulls began to disperse, Albert angrily tried to punch one, but he threw Albert to the ground like he was nothing. Crutchie coughed and sputtered. Clinging onto life. Albert crawled over to him, tears pooling out of his eyes. He lifted Crutchie's head into his lap. He knew Crutchie wasn't there anymore, but a faint heartbeat told Albert that he was still, barely, alive.

_ "It's okay, you can let go" _

And with that, Crutchie let out his last breath.

-

Jack's POV

One minute, Jack was fight a bull, the next, he was running towards Albert. A second later, he had gotten distracted and went to save Les. Jack was always all over the place during bull fights, helping whoever he could. This put him in the most danger, running from bull to bull, soaking them all, could get you hurt. It had gotten Jack hurt a plethora if times. But, Jack thought the only way to get a bunch of bulls on your tail, was to piss enough off at one time. So in this moment, Jack wondered how the hell Crutchie had 5 bulls after him. He hadn't heard one of them yell, "Get the crip," all he saw was five of them start to swarm towards Crutchie. And then it sunk in.

_ Five bulls were going after Crutchie. _

Jack tore through the crowd. Pushing bulls and newsies aside. He didn't care anymore, he just had to get to Crutchie before the worst happened.

_ "Jack! Race! Help!"  _

Jack was now throwing people to the ground, trying to get to Crutchie. A bull grabbed his arm and spun him away, he gave Jack the evilest and most sickening grin he had ever seen. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even try to get words out, Jack soaked him in the jaw. He spun on his heels and bolted towards Crutchie. Albert was already kneeling at his side, tear marks and dirt smudges staining his face. Jack kneeled next to Crutchie, across from Albert, and watch as his sky blue eyes faded. And the life seemingly drained out of him. Jack gave Crutchie's hand a tight squeeze, biting his cheek to stop from crying. A metallic flavor quickly flooded over his taste buds. 

_ "Goodbye, my brother," _

And with that, Jack truly had no family left.


	6. Those Footsteps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kid Blink makes the wrong decision of meeting up with a friend after a day of selling. Instead of his friend, he finds the Delancey brothers looking for trouble.

Kid Blink was the youngest in the entire Lodging House. Barely 15 years old, Jack was very protective of him. Never let him sold on his own. Blink had to beg, for ages, before Jack even began to consider it. But somehow, someway, Jack gave in. And Blink was allowed to sell on his own. On the condition that he sold all of his papers before sundown, and was back in the Lodging House by then. These were simple rules to follow, and for the first couple of weeks, everything was going fine. Blink woke up, got his papers, sold his papers, and went home. Specifically Jack was happy with this, to the point where he had begun to be a little more lenient on the rules. Blink of course knew this, and took advantage of it.  _ This turned out to be a grave mistake _ .

It was like his normal Thursday evenings, Blink was strolling along the sidewalk, making his way towards Jacobi’s. He had promised a friend from Brooklyn that they’d meet there and have dinner. Jack approved of this so he didn’t expect Blink to be back until later. Blink leaned against the rough brick wall of the restaurant. The sidewalk and street were eerily silent. To pass time, and cure the impending boredom, Blink began to count his earnings from the day. That is, until he heard footsteps approaching. His ears perked, thinking it was his Brooklyn friend, Blink began to make his way towards them. Until he noticed something was off. Not only were the footsteps too heavy to be a short kid from Brooklyn, but there were two sets of them.  _ He knew the sound of his friend’s footsteps coming down the street and these weren't them _ .Then Blink heard the chilling maniacal laughter from two grown men. From two brothers. From the Delancey brothers. Kid Blink dropped absolutely anything that would hold him down, his days earnings all clattered to the floor, rolling into the street. Pivoting on his heels, Blink bolted down the streets. Footsteps ensued, growing closer. Blink felt one of their hands brush his back lightly, assuming that they were trying to grab a hold of him.  _ Blink had to lose them _ , but how? An alley was steadily approaching, all Blink had to do was run in and outsmart them to get out. Which wouldn’t be too hard, he was small and quick.  _ He’d get through this. _

Blink turned into the alley and ran to the end, quickly whipping around to face the Delanceys, who were now steadily approaching him. Oscar’s brass knuckles glinted in the light.

“It’s the end of the line for you kid,” Morris growled. An evil, sickening smile on his face. Blink choked on his response, stuttering each word.

“W-what do y-you m-mean?” Any sense of bravery that he had before was gone, and he was cornered. Dread began to fill him, his hands grew clammy. Without any other words, Oscar walked up to him, landing a punch right in Blink’s jaw. Blink’s head spun to the side and he crumpled to the floor. His ribs cracked as Oscar and Morris began kicking at his chest. His vision began to dot and fade. Darkness slowly consuming him. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach, warm blood now oozed out of a stab wound. Oscar and Morris walked away, acting as if they didn’t just murder someone.  _ Acting like they didn’t just kill a poor 15 year old boy _ .

_ The last thing Kid Blink heard was the sick echoing of their horrible laughter. _


	7. Love Struck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race never quite believed in 'love at first sight', that is, until he makes eye contact with a certain redhead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern!AU

Race had just been sitting by the bus stop. It was one of those warm fall mornings, where it could easily pass for a cool summer morning, except there’s leaves everywhere, slight breezes, and the smell of warm coffee in the air. He scrolled hastily through his music playlist, looking to find the right song to play. The silence allowed him to hear the sound of approaching footsteps. His eyes flicked to the side, allowing him to see someone approaching. He paid no mind, found the right song, and continued on. He didn’t care for the person until suddenly they had tripped, allowing the things in their bag to be dispersed around the sidewalk. Race knelt down onto the sidewalk, helping them collect their things. It wasn’t until Race had to hand them back a book, that Race looked up at their face. Their brown eyes met his contrasting blue ones, the boy sitting in front of him took the book back and shoved it into his cluttered bag. They both stood, Race still staring at the boy. He smiled slightly, looking Race up and down for a brief second.

“Thanks,”

“Y-you’re welcome,” Race stuttered, the stranger stifled a laugh and walked past him. Race continued to watch him until he was long gone from sight. _Racetrack Higgins was love struck._


	8. His Serenity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie loves the outdoors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern!AU

Ever since Crutchie had learned how to drive, every evening, he’d drive as far from everything as he possibly could, park atop a large hill, and pretend that he was the only person alive in that moment. He loved the serenity of it all, sitting on the hood of his dad’s pickup truck. He loved feeling the cool evening breeze dance around him. The setting sun gave everything a pink tint, making Crutchie feel like he was in a whole other world. He’d close his eyes, the wind brushing through his hair, the air filling his lungs, in those moments, everything would be fine. All of his problems would melt away, into a puddle, that ran down the hill, into a pond bellow. His problems would be taken away with the fallen leaves, when a strong gust of wind came by. Up on that hill, surrounded by nothing but trees and serenity, Crutchie would be in complete bliss. He’d stay there, for hours, just sitting, thinking, and observing. That hill was there for him through thick and thin, through his first love, his first heartbreak, the death of his grandmother, thought it all. There wasn’t a thing that that hill didn’t know about Crutchie, and there wasn’t a thing that Crutchie didn’t know about it. And now, as he stood on the hill, the hum of his car engine in the background, he reminisced on these moments, knowing that there might not be another hill quite like that one. He remembered those nights he had spent, talking to the world, pouring his heart and soul out to the nature around him. A bittersweet smile spread across his face, it pained him to have to say goodbye to this hill, but the adventures to come were beyond exciting. He gave a slight nod to the vast earth in front of him, his final goodbye. Not looking back, he climbed into his dad’s pickup and drove off. Crutchie knew he’d never come across another area of land with such an impact that this one had on him.


	9. Colorblind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colorblind soulmates AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern!AU

They both lived in a city that never slept, always bustling, always moving. There was never a second to breathe, never a second to rest. This made finding their soulmate almost impossible. Race had just gotten off of the subway, looking down at his phone, and not paying attention to the hectic world around him. Race rarely ever looked up. 

That is, until a boy, shorter than him, bumped into his shoulder. Race looked up with a bewildered expression. His eyes connected with that of the boy, who was remarkably short. Only for a brief second did they look at one another, until a surge of people emerged from a subway car, pushing Race and the other boy away from one another. As Race was being shoved about, something began to change. Hues began to become visible, from the corner of his peripheral vision. Race started to panic as it suddenly sunk in what was happening.  _ Colors. _ That could only mean one thing, that boy was his soulmate. But now his soulmate was lost in the crowd, and they were being pushed in opposite directions. 

He pushed against the surge of people, being thrown off guard by the bright colors now entering his vision. Race tried not to trip and stumble as he desperately looked for the boy.  _ He didn’t even know what color his eyes were. _ He bolted up the stairs that led to the outside world. Only to be blinded by how  _ bright _ everything was. Race couldn’t help but stand in amazement for a few seconds, before remembering that he had to find the boy. 

Race searched for hours, days, months, years on end, but didn’t find anyone that even remotely looked like the boy. Race’s whole life, he dreamed of seeing color. He wondered what it even was. But now, he wishes for nothing more than for it to go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes this is short, anyways


	10. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buttons can't swim.

_ The average person can hold their breath for 30 to 60 seconds.  _ Buttons quickly learned though, that that statistic gets thrown out the window when you’re forcefully thrown into a river, from a dock 10 feet above the water. Buttons quickly learned that the shock of the cold water, and the pain of hitting the water, which might as well of been concrete, will send any breath you had in your lungs out. When this happens to you, you  _ are no longer an average person _ , and you’re good as dead.

_ Except, Buttons could of saved himself, if he wasn’t such a fool. _

His first mistake was the violent thrashing, thinking it would draw attention,  _ thinking that someone would save him, _ though it only caused him to waste the little energy he had to keep him alive quicker. Buttons promptly grew tired, his limbs be tougher to move. He slowly began to sink down. 

_ 10 seconds. _

He had only been in the water for 10 seconds before his limbs started giving out. By 15, he was officially out of air. By 20, he took his first involuntary breath of water. Panic and adrenaline flooded through him. His lungs began to burn, he tried to reach towards the surface, but at this point his hand wasn’t even close to breaking through to it. His insides began to burn, like fire, as if something was boiling within him. His throat felt tight, and it only got tighter. Buttons couldn’t do anything except trash and take in more breaths, causing more burning, more tightening, more excruciating pain.

By 30 seconds, he accepted it. He accepted his death, his fate. Buttons stopped thrashing, and took in one large gulp. The burning subsided, his throat loosened, but he could feel the weight of all the water in his lungs. Even if he was saved at this moment, even if he was pulled out of the water, there was no way he’d ever see another day. He noticed how lightheaded he was, and then how everything began to fade from his peripherals.  _ He was dying. _ Buttons knew this, he looked up at the sky, through the water it was distorted, peaceful in a sense. The moon was swirled, the glow of it spreading out. Like the starry night.  _ If this is how I have to die, _ Buttons thought,  _ at least this is the last thing I get to see. _

And then he was gone.


	11. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern!AU

And like that, he was gone. Out the door. Like a flickering candle. Like a gust of wind, pulling the leaves along. Gone, with barely a goodbye. Not that Romeo deserved one though. The door slammed, shaking the house. A picture fell, it cracked, shattered, broke. It broke right along with Romeo’s heart. Cracked. Shattered. Broken. Gone, gone,  _ gone. _ His breath was rigid. His heart ached. His stomach churned. His eyes burned, god did they burn. Tears threatened to fall, one wrong thought, one wrong move, and they’d all spill over. Elmer hadn’t even tried to fight back, he just stood there, like a scared puppy with his tails between his legs. Which broke Romeo more, that he had that power, to silence and frighten someone like that. He hated himself for it. But now he was alone, and now he couldn’t hurt someone even if he tried. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is also really short... wHOOPS


	12. Kid Blink Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blink gets stabbed (but what else is new?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern!AU

It was a normal night, no, scratch that. It was  _ supposed _ to be a normal night. Blink had just wanted to go for a walk, to think things through. His life had been a nonstop whirl of emotions ever since, well, ever since he and Mush had their first kiss. Nothing had been consistent since then, except Mush of course. He was always there for Blink, except for that one week that he wasn’t. But Blink didn’t like to think of that, it made him anxious. Sure, he would always fear Mush leaving him again, and he definitely would always fear that part of his life coming back to him. Besides that though, Mush was always there, and Blink felt positive that he’d  _ always be there. _

Blink looked up at the sky, it was clear, as clear as Manhattan would allow. He sighed contently. Everything would be okay, right? Race was on track to healing, him and Albert had made up, and things were just slowly rebuilding themself. 

And then, like the flickering of a dying candle, it all changed.

“Oh lookie here Mo! Just who we’s was lookin’ for!" Blink cringed inwardly as he heard a familiar voice call out behind him.  _ Just stay calm Blink. _ He felt himself be pushed up against the wall of a building. Oscar Delancey was suddenly obnoxiously close to his face.

“You’re the twink I had to stab huh? Your little boyfriend felt the need to get me back, so now look who’s gonna pay,” He snarled. Blink took a deep and shaky breath. This wasn’t going to end well no matter what he did, he was going to end up hurt anyways.  _ Why not have a little fun with it? _

“Yeah? Well how’s your leg by the way, healin’ well?” He smiled sarcastically. This obviously only made Oscar seethe with anger. Morris appeared next to Blink, also invading his personal bubble.

“Yeah, well how’s your  _ friend _ by the way, healin’ well?” He sneered. Blink narrowed his eyes at Morris. 

“None of your business,” He growled. It seemed that Blink had already begun to dig his own grave, considering what Oscar did next. He pulled out a small knife, one that Blink recognized from their last encounter.

“Well, ya leg won’t be healed for that long,” Oscar snickered. He felt his heart drop as Oscar plunged it into Blink’s leg. Almost right on top of the last scar he had given him. Blink bit down on his cheek, hard enough that the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.  _ Breathe Blink, breathe. It’ll be okay. _

“You absolute prick,” He growled through gritted teeth. Oscar smiled wickedly, leaving a sick feeling in Blink’s stomach. 

“Thanks,” He quickly pulled out the knife and wiped it off on his shirt. Blink could feel the anger boiling up inside him, or was that the crippling pain? Either way, he quickly kicked out with his good leg, landing his kick right in Oscar’s stomach. 

“Fuck you, honestly,” 

Morris let out a cold and chilling laugh, he quickly moved in on Blink, punching him right in the collarbone. A loud crack could be heard, and Morris smiled contently at that. He quickly elbowed Blink in the stomach, before backing up. Blink doubled over, a hand instantly going up to cover is assumably broken collarbone. He cried out in pain.  _ Don’t fall, if you fall they have an advantage. _ He managed to stay standing, breathing heavily. 

At this point, Oscar had regained himself. 

“Still got fight left in ya?” He smirked evilly. Oscar grabbed Blink by his hair, and forced him down on his knees. He kneed Blink hard in the stomach before pulling him back up and tossing him against the wall again. 

“As long as I’m livin’, I have fight left in me,” Blink spat. He pushed Oscar with as much force as he could, then turned and elbowed Morris. He took this time to stumble away from them. He hastily pulled out his phone and sent Mush a text for help. 

“You fuck!” Oscar screamed as he stumbled back, “We’ll kill you!”

Blink put his phone back into his pocket and looked up at Oscar.  _ Mush wouldn’t be too long, just hold out till then. _

“I fuckin’ dare you!” Blink challenged. This prompted Morris to approach him quickly, he boxed in Blink’s ears, leaving him disoriented. Then swiftly kicked him right where Blink had been stabbed. He finished off with a hard punch to the jaw. Morris pushed Blink against the wall again, holding him there tightly for Oscar. Blink groaned, his vision was growing blurry. 

“Damn that hurt… congrats,” Blink looked over to Morris, whose face was slowly losing shape and detail. Oscar gave Blink a sickening grin, sliding on his brass knuckles.

“Oh, we ain’t done yet,” He said in a low voice. Oscar punched Blink in his ribcage twice, then once in his good eye. At this point, Blink’s vision was fading to darkness. 

“Still trying to act tough huh?” Morris laughed coldly. He pressed hard on Blink's clavicle, digging into the break, trying to break his resolve. His vision faded to black, but Blink was still aware of everything around him.  _ Mush, please hurry. _

“Whether I’m actin’ tough or beggin’ for mercy, it won’t change the situation, so why not?” Blink had managed to choke out. Morris growled angrily and pushed down harder. 

Blink heard a car door open and slam shut, then suddenly, Morris was out of his face. There was quiet whispering.  _ Mush? Was that Mush? _ Blink hoped it was. Then the sound of running footsteps, “Mush-” A voice said. Alright, so it was Mush, but who the hell was that? Oscar growled and Blink felt him back away from him.

“Well lookee who we have here, Mo. Looks like they're a set. Guess it's time to have some real fun." Oh god no. Blink felt himself start to sink down to the floor, exhaustion was slowly taking over his body. The pain was becoming overwhelming. A sudden yell, assumably induced by pain, made Blink jump slightly. It was followed by a hard thud. 

“Try me,” Blink heard Mush growl. Footsteps ran past Blink and over to Mush, “I’m with ya,” They reassured. There was a moment of silence, deafening silence. It scared Blink, anything could be happening and he couldn’t even see it. 

“Better watch yourself,” Oscar warned. A sudden shooting pain appeared in Blink’s left shoulder. He cried out in surprise and pain, but mostly pain. Oh god had he been stabbed again? It felt like he had. Just then, his vision began to clear up, but things were still blurry. But at least he could see. Blink delicately reached to touch his shoulder. He felt a warm liquid,  _ blood _ . So he must of been stabbed again. He felt himself getting increasingly light headed. His eyes started slipping shut.  _ No no… Blink stay awake. _

“Al, take care of Blink so I can fuckin’ kill this guy,” Mush growled. Al nodded and rushed over. Right, so that’s who the other voice was. 

“Hey, it’s Al, try and stay awake, alright?” Blink nodded slowly as he watched Albert take off his flannel and tie it tightly around Blink’s shoulder. “That feel alright?” Blink nodded again.

“Everything is really fuzzy,” He murmured, his eyes began closing once again. Blink managed to open them again, looking at anything that would keep him awake.

“Hey. Hey hey hey,” Albert lightly whapped Blink’s cheek. “Stay with me, focus on me, I’m right here, okay?” Blink looked at Albert again. He felt himself slipping down the wall and tried to pull himself back up to a seated position. Blink winced as everything began to scream in pain.

“It hurts…” Blink mumbled. 

“We’ll take care of you, you’ll be okay Blink,” Albert reassured with a smile. He looked around to find a place to take Blink, somewhere away from the fight, “You can’t really move can you?” His smile faded, and he looked a little dismayed.

“I can, just not… nicely,” He coughed, feeling like his chest was caving in on himself. Shit, he probably had a cracked rib or something. 

“I jus’ wanna move you where you’re safer, gonna lift you on three,” Albert looked at Blink with wide eyes. Blink nodded weakly, “Okay, one… two…” He lifted Blink easily, and purposefully early. Albert quickly took him further back into the alley, he carefully placed Blink back down. If he wasn’t becoming increasingly more numb as the second passed, Blink was sure that the lift would of hurt like hell. He felt his consciousness slowly drift away from him. 

“I should  _ not _ of shit talked them,” Blink laughed slightly. Albert smiled for a moment.

“You shit talked? Nice” His smile faded and was replaced with a serious expression, “But also stupid, you knew you would of gotten more hurt that way, pal,” Blink shrugged, or at least attempted to, but between the stab wound in his left shoulder and his broken collar bone on the right, he couldn’t do much. 

“Yeah but... whether I was shit talking.. or being nice, I would of gotten hurt either way. Might as well make it worth it," He mumbled. Blink felt his eyelids shutting, "Hey Al? I don't think I can stay awake for much longer..."

“Fuck--” Albert looked over to Mush, who was two seconds away from murdering Oscar, “-- _ Fuck _ ,” He glanced at Blink and tightened the flannel on his shoulder.

“Please… please try to,” He stood quickly and ran off. Blink nodded, knowing that Albert was already gone. _Right, stay awake._ He looked down, seeing the blood pool around him, _was he bleeding out? Probably._ _Ha… bet not many people can say they’ve done that._ Oh god Blink was becoming delirious. He felt tired, really tired, and cold, and like there was a weight pushing him down. _How bad would a small nap be?_ No, Blink, stay awake. He tried everything to keep him awake, counting as high as he could, taking in his surroundings, even slapping himself. But he still felt tired. _If someone didn’t help him soon, he’d probably pass out._

He heard footsteps quickly approaching, Blink looked up to see Mush. He really wanted to sleep, and now that Mush was here, maybe he could! Mush grabbed Blink, "Shit your gonna need a hospital...fuck they'd ask to many questions though. Fuck i might have to take you to...." he whispered holding Blink delicately, he picked up Blink gently and brought him to his car. Laying him down in the back, "It'll be okay baby, i swear" he whispered. Blink felt himself slowly losing his grip on consciousness.

“Hey Mush?” Blink murmured, he didn’t wait for Mush to respond, “Oscar called me a twink…that’s gay,” Blink finally let his eyes close, and seconds later he was out.  


	13. Hot or Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blush. (Need I say more?  
> Modern!AU

“Mush I swear- Just… keep it cold will ya?” Blink sighed while he fixed the thermostat settings, his tongue poking out as he concentrated, Mush was leaning against the wall next to him, a dramatic pout on his face.

“Aww, but I like it warm, why are you so strange?” Mush whined. He grabbed Blink’s wrist, trying to guide him away from the thermostat. Blink smiled softly and let himself be pulled by Mush. 

“Why do you like it warm? The colder it is the more layers you can wear… the warmer it is, well let’s just say you can only get so naked,” Blink giggled and tried getting out of Mush’s grip.

“I don’t see any cons in that,” He smirked, winking playfully, and held Blink closer to him. Blink rolled his eyes and wriggled his way out of Mush’s grasp. He went back to fixing the thermostat, Mush whined and hugged Blink from behind, resting his chin on Blink’s head.

“Baby, can’t we just keep it warm? I don’t wanna become a popsicle,” He murmured. Blink couldn’t help but giggle at that, but still he set the thermostat at a nice temperature, or at least he thought he did, clearly Mush wasn’t happy with it. Blink started walking away now, looking back at Mush to make sure he didn’t touch anything. Mush just followed behind, still complaining. 

“Can’t we compromise? Make a deal? Something?” He flopped down onto the couch, pulling a blanket over him. Blink giggled again and lied down on top of Mush. He showered his face in soft little kisses.

“But don’t you see it Mushy? This is the best pro about keepin’ it cold, I don’t gotta leave your side,” He wrapped his arms around his neck, smiling brightly, “We’re like penguins, huddling for warmth,” Mush let out a small laugh, snaking his arms around Blink’s waist. He thought for a moment.

“Yeah I see it now… you know, maybe the cold ain’t that bad,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blush is the greatest thing ever, convince me otherwise (you can't)


	14. How Do You Fall Out of Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race is having doubts about being in love with Spot

Walking along the quiet streets of Manhattan, Spot could easily tell there was something deep on Racetrack’s mind. Spot nudged Race’s arm with his elbow, flashing him a small smile. Race looked down at Spot, an unreadable expression clouding his face. Suddenly he stopped, Race was fidgeting with his cigar like crazy. Going from twirling it between his fingers, to sticking it back in his mouth. It was a vicious cycle. Spot stopped, and turned towards him. 

“Race, yous okay?” Spot questioned, Race leaned against the wall of a tall building. He looked down at his feet, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“Spot, hows do you fall  _ out _ of love?” He looked into Spot’s eyes. On the verge of panicking. Spot stood there dumbfounded.  _ Race was in love? _ With who? Spot stuttered a response that made no sense. Race took a deep breath.

“Spot, here’s the thing, I’m in love with ya, and I know you don’t like me back, let alone  _ love _ me back so I knows that I need to get over you and I don’t know how,” Race kept on rambling. Spot stopped him, by throwing his hand over Race’s mouth. Race went wide eyed.

“You… love me?” Spot asked, a faint smile tracing his lips. Race nodded slowly, anxiety pulsing through his veins. He was on the verge of breaking down. He  _ knew _ that Spot was about to reject him. 

“Well, you goon, if ya haven’t noticed,” Spot moved his hand, planting a small kiss on Race’s lips.

“I love you too,”


	15. A Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert and Race are dancing in a livingroom

Albert doesn’t remember how they started dancing. All he knew is that Race had turned on music, and suddenly they were waltzing around the room. Race’s right arm was placed on Albert’s hip, while Albert’s left hand rested on his shoulder. A dopey grin was spread across Race’s face, Albert must have said something funny, because Race then threw his head back and laughed. Albert wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, he barely even knew the words coming out of his own mouth. He was too busy staring into Race’s sparkling eyes. He made sure to note everything about him. From the way Race’s wavy hair stuck out from under his grey cap. To the freckles dotted across his nose. The way his lips curled in a smile. Albert smiled to himself, Race raised a brow. Looking at Albert questionably.

“What’s so funny,” Race asked. Albert raised his finger to Race’s face, and poked his nose.

“You’re face” Albert chuckled, Race twirled him around, then pulled him in close.

“You know I love you right?” Race began to lean in for a kiss, and at the last moment, Albert twirled him away. He let out a laugh as Race looked slightly upset.

“I take it back, I hate you,” Race pouted. Albert kissed his cheek, making Race blush ever so slightly.

“Love you too,”


	16. In The Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elmer is a sweetheart (but what else is new?)

Winter was the worst season to sell in, everyone was cold, shivering, and sick. There was always snow everywhere, that would get into the boys’ boots, making their socks constantly and uncomfortably wet. 

Elmer knew this, that everyone disliked winter with a passion. So he took it upon himself to lighten the mood whenever he could.  _ And he had the perfect plan _ . He had planned this for months, saving dimes and putting them in a box, then hiding that box under a floorboard. He started saving in late August, and by the time it was January, he had more than enough money for his plan. 

One morning, he got up and bolted to the wagon. Getting his papers as quickly as he could, they sold like hot cakes that day. Elmer shouted out headlines so bizarre that people just _ had _ to buy papers from him.

Then it was time to put his plan into initiative, and after an hour of preparing, everything was ready.

Elmer sat on the couch, his leg bouncing nervously, when he heard the front door to the Lodging House open, he sprang up. Jack trudged inside, looking glum, and shivering. Jack was always the first one back, so when he saw Elmer standing there, a large dopey smile plastered onto his face, he was shocked. Elmer walked up to Jack and took his arm, then he quickly ushered him to the table. 

“Elmer… what is all of this?” Jack asked gazing at the table, which held cups of hot chocolate (one for each newsie) and pairs of new socks. 

“Surprise!” Elmer cheered, bouncing on his toes excitedly, Jack gratefully took a cup and socks. Jack playfully punched Elmer in the arm, it was his way of showing love.

“Yous probably broke from this! Musta cost you a fortune,” Elmer just shrugged a response, still smiling idiotically.

“Thanks, Elmer. Really, you’re a savior,”


	17. Jack - Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicidal thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually never planned on ever posting this, but welp, here it is

“Jack it’s okay, It’s okay to feel sad. This is a lot of pressure on you, I get it, I understand,” Davey desperately tried to comfort his friend. He couldn’t even imagine, think, or begin to understand what was going on in his head. Davey cautiously approached him, knowing that one wrong move could throw Jack right over the edge.

“No Davey, you don’t get it. You don’t fucking understand. I’m stuck, I’m falling, and I can’t let you, any of you, know that. I’m the great leader, _ the brave Jack Kelly _ , I’m supposed to be strong. Dave… every time I close my eyes, every time I try to imagine something, I see myself, dying. In any possible way I can. I see myself getting hurt, and no one’s helping. And you know what scares me most David? I’m not scared by these thoughts...” Jack started out strong, but as time went on he slowly faded to barely a whisper. The brave strike leader, was slowly withering away, right in front of Davey. He was only 17, barely 17, still a child. How could anyone expect a kid to lead a strike, to take on  _ ‘the kingmakers of New York’ _ , to even survive this onslaught of pain and responsibility. Davey took a step back, Jack’s words had startled him. No, not startled,  _ frightened _ .

“Jack… I-” How could Davey fix this, how could he make Jack feel better? He didn’t think he could, he didn’t think anyone could, or anything for that matter.  
“No, forget about it Davey, forget I ever said anything,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now, this'll be the last fic (I do have others but some I don't want to post) I have a lot of unfinished stuff though, so I might get around to that and post it when I do


End file.
